An op-ed from gymnastics fan and occasional reporter Izzi Baskin.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.

Last year, I went to a concert and heard MILCK sing her cover of “Ooh Child,” which she (ironically) covered for an Olympics ad in 2018. She explained how singing this song has changed for her in the time since the Parkland school shooting. The young adults who survived this trauma, rather than waiting for the adults in their lives to take control to protect them, have taken charge themselves to organize and change the world around them. MILCK said that every time she sings the song now, she thinks about how this generation of children is soothing us, the adults, assuring us that they will make things better.

All I could think about during her explanation was you all, the sister-survivors. About how you, too, are forcing change to happen. I thought in particular about those of you who are minors, who bravely testified in front of your abuser, wanting not only to heal yourselves, but also determined to create real change in the system that enabled your abuse for so long.

I also thought about the current national team, some of you survivors yourselves. About every gymnast that I watched post “#wst” (we stand together) as I scrolled through my Instagram feed. About how you showed up at a training camp only weeks after Nassar was finally put behind bars, determined to show everyone that this man and all those who enabled him would not ruin even one second of your careful preparation. About how each one of you continues to work harder than I can imagine to achieve your goals in a system that has failed you and is slowly, slowly, rebuilding around you.

I wanted all of you to be in the room with MILCK that night. To hear the strength in this song, and to know that we are inspired by you, and that we are standing and fighting next to you. But I also want you to hear our apology. We failed. As fans, coaches, adults, allies. Although we are late, now we are here, we are listening, and we are ready to create change.

I have been inspired by every single gymnast on the national team for years. You are the reason I know that I can work harder and make myself stronger. You inspire me to set lofty goals and work my ass off to try to reach them. Knowing that gymnasts work so hard towards their goals, willing to sacrifice absolutely anything to achieve perfection, is what draws me to the sport. It’s what I love most about gymnastics.

But this intensity and competition is also what created the culture of abuse at USA Gymnastics. As much as it pains me to admit, some of the reasons that I reveled in this extreme sport for so long are the exact reasons that Nassar was able to exist within it. As a fan, I did not listen hard enough when I heard stories of abuse. I did not ask enough questions when so many came back from The Ranch injured. I did not worry about McKayla’s broken toe or Jordyn’s broken foot at the Olympics, because they got their gold medals. They had achieved their dream, and I was so unbelievably happy for them.

As a fan, I might not have made substantial change by being more critical of USA Gymnastics. But the problem isn’t just my lack of criticism, it’s that I’m eager to sweep these issues under the rug because of how badly I want to prove how tough gymnasts are. In her article “What the Larry Nassar Case Made Me Realize as a Gymnastics Fan”, Jessica Taylor Price talks about how often people bring up age falsification and eating disorders as soon as they find out she is a gymnastics fan. Price explains how and why she counters these ideas, insisting they were in the past, and drawing the focus back to the incredible strength of current gymnasts.

Reading this article finally gave me the ability to put into words why I had been feeling so guilty about this tragedy even though I had no direct involvement. As a fan, I feel like it’s my duty to defend gymnasts from the offhand comments four-year fans always make when they hear I like gymnastics. I hate when someone immediately brings up what feels like archaic images of forged passports and children snatched away from their parents at a young age. Conversations like these deny these women their agency and power. It feels insulting to bring up anything that denies the US women the recognition they deserve for the hard work and sacrifice it took to get them to total dominance. And I used to express this fiercely to anyone who said differently. Like Price explains in her article, I was desperate to prove to the general public that gymnasts “are not little girls in pretty boxes. They are young women with serious careers.” But now, I understand how this, too, was harmful.

To the gymternet: Here’s where we need to take a cue from the gymnasts themselves. As the walls around the US elite system start to fall, it is our duty to lift up these women’s voices. Not only have they proven themselves to be some of the best athletes in the world, but now they are proving themselves to be phenomenal activists. I believe that it is our duty to listen to what they say and project it to all the four-year fans that will now undoubtedly bring up Nassar when they find out about our gymnerd status. This is a chance for us as fans to learn, just like it is a chance for USAG to learn. We have to listen to these women and hear their stories.

For as long as I’ve been a gym fan, I’ve tried to protect gymnasts by loudly proclaiming to anyone that would listen that gymnastics is the hardest sport in the world and that these young women spend more time at the gym than adults do at their jobs. What I didn’t realize is how much you have been protecting yourselves all along. You’ve survived one of the most horrific child abusers in history and you are fighting back on others’ behalf. You are the ones who will make a difference. You are the ones who must be heard.

There are two things I want to tell you, the gymnasts and sister-survivors I admire so much: first, thank you. Thank you for fighting so hard to protect each and every one of us so that this never happens again. Your strength brings tears to my eyes. And second, I want you to know that because of your courage, one day things will get easier.

Article by Izzi Baskin